UC-NRLF 


$B    STT    Db4 


LIBRARY 

Accession  No. 

THE  JAMES 

K.  MOFFITT 

FUND. 

OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAL 

IFORNIA. 

DF  '86. 

.^_,|r/ 

GIFT    OF 

JAMES    KENNEDY   MOFFITT 

OF  THE   CLASS 

95^f>  5    Class  No, 

LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM 


Let  Us  Follow  Him 


BY 

HENRYK   SIENKIEWICZ 

AUTHOR  OF 

«  Quo  Vadis/'  •'«  With  Fire  and  Sword,''  Etc. 


Translated  from  the  Polish 
By    JEREMIAH     CURTIN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1897 


'  ADDED 
INALTOBE 

24  1994 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  Jeremiah  Curtin. 


All  rights  reserved. 


iPlimpton 

H.  M.  PLIMPTON  &  CO.,   PRINTERS  & 
NORWOOD,  MASS.,  U.S.A. 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE. 

Although  the  story  "  Let  Us  Fol- 
low Him "  is  included  in  the  new  vol- 
ume by  Sienkiewicz  entitled  "Hania," 
just  issued  in  uniform  style  with  Mr. 
Curtin's  translations  of  the  author's 
other  works,  its  publication  in  a  sepa- 
rate volume  has  been  deemed  advisable 
for  the  reason  that  this  story  gave  to  its 
author  the  idea  of  writing  "  Quo  Vadis," 
which  has  been  the  literary  sensation  of 
the  past  twelve  months. 

The  period  of"  Let  Us  Follow  Him  " 
is  that  of  the  death  of  Christ.  Antea, 
the  wife  of  a  Roman  patrician,  ill  with 
terrible   visions,  is  advised   by  a  phy- 

V 

95308 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTE. 

sician  to  seek  the  air  of  Jerusalem. 
There  she  and  her  husband  meet  Pilate, 
who  tells  them  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Nazarene,  Jesus,  and  his  condemnation 
to  death.  They  are  present  at  the  Cru- 
cifixion, and  Antea  gives  honor  to  the 
condemned  Nazarene,  saying,  "Thou 
art  Truth." 


\ 


LET   US    FOLLOW  HIM. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Caius  Septimius  Cinna  was  a 
Roman  Patrician.  He  had  spent  his 
youth  in  the  legions  and  in  severe 
camp-life.  Later  he  returned  to  Rome 
to  enjoy  glory,  luxury,  and  a  great 
though  somewhat  shattered  fortune. 
He  used  and  abused  at  that  time  every- 
thing which  the  gigantic  city  could 
offer. 

His  nights  were  spent  at  feasts  in 
lordly  suburban  villas;  his  days  in 
sword  practice  with  fencers,  in  discus- 
sions with  rhetors  at  the  baths,  where 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

disputes  were  held,  and  where  the 
scandal  of  the  city  and  the  world  was 
related,  in  circuses,  at  races,  at  the 
struggles  of  gladiators,  or  among  Greek 
musicians,  Thracian  soothsayers,  and 
wonderful  dancing-girls  from  the  islands 
of  the  Archipelago.  He  inherited 
from  the  renowned  Lucullus,  a  relative 
on  the  mother*s  side,  a  love  for  exqui- 
site dishes.  At  his  table  were  served 
Grecian  wines,  Neapolitan  oysters, 
Numidian  mice,  and  locust  fat  pre- 
served in  honey  from  Pontus. 

Whatever  Rome  possessed  Cinna 
must  have,  beginning  with  fish  of  the 
Red  Sea,  and  ending  with  white  ptarmi- 
gans from  the  banks  of  the  Borysthenes 
(Dnieper).  He  made  use  of  things  not 
only  as  a  soldier  run  riot,  but  as  a  pa- 
trician who   passes   the   measure.     He 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

had  instilled  into  himself,  or  had  per- 
haps even  roused  in  himself,  a  love  for 
the  beautiful,  —  a  love  for  statues  res- 
cued from  the  ruins  of  Corinth,  for 
pitchers  from  Attica,  for  Etruscan  vases 
from  foggy  Sericum,  for  Roman  mo- 
saics, for  fabrics  brought  from  the 
Euphrates,  for  Arabian  perfumes,  and 
for  all  the  peculiar  trifles  which  filled 
the  void  of  patrician  life. 

He  knew  how  to  talk  of  these  trifles, 
as  a  specialist  and  connoisseur,  with 
toothless  old  men,  who  decked  out 
their  baldness  in  wreaths  of  roses 
when  going  to  a  feast,  and  who  after 
the  feast  chewed  heliotrope  blossoms 
to  make  the  breath  of  their  lungs  odor- 
iferous. He  felt  also  the  beauty  of 
Cicero's  periods,  and  of  verses  of 
Horace  or  Ovid. 

3 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Educated  by  an  Athenian  rhetor,  he 
conversed  in  Greek  fluently;  he  knew 
whole  pages  of  the  "  Iliad  "  by  heart, 
and  during  a  feast  could  sing  odes 
of  Anacreon  till  he  had  grown  hoarse 
or  drunk.  Through  his  master  and 
other  rhetors  he  had  rubbed  against 
philosophy,  and  become  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  it  to  know  the  plans 
of  various  edifices  of  thought  reared 
in  Hellas  and  the  colonies;  he  under- 
stood too  that  all  these  edifices  were 
in  ruins.  He  knew  many  Stoics  per- 
sonally; for  these  he  cherished  dislike, 
since  he  looked  on  them  rather  as  a 
political  party,  and,  besides,  as  hypo- 
chondriacs, hostile  to  joyous  living. 
Sceptics  had  a  seat  frequently  at  his 
table;  and  during  intervals  between 
courses  they  overturned  entire  systems, 
4 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

and  announced  at  their  cups,  filled  with 
wine,  that  pleasure  was  vanity,  truth 
something  unattainable,  and  that  the  ob- 
ject of  a  sage  could  be  only  dead  rest. 

All  this  struck  Cinna's  ears  without 
piercing  to  the  depth.  He  recognized 
no  principle,  and  would  have  none. 
In  Cato  he  saw  the  union  of  great 
character  and  great  folly.  He  looked 
on  life  as  a  sea,  on  which  winds  blew 
whithersoever  they  listed;  and  wisdom 
in  his  eyes  was  the  art  of  setting  sails 
in  such  fashion  that  they  would  urge 
one's  boat  forward.  He  esteemed  his 
own  broad  shoulders  and  sound 
stomach;  he  esteemed  his  own  beau- 
tiful Roman  head,  with  his  aquiline 
nose  and  powerful  jaws.  He  was  cer- 
tain that  with  these  he  could  pass 
through  life  somehow. 
5 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

Though  not  belonging  to  the  school 
of  Sceptics,  he  was  a  practical  Sceptic 
and  hence  a  lover  of  pleasure,  though 
he  knew  that  pleasure  was  not  happi- 
ness. The  genuine  teaching  of  Epi- 
curus he  did  not  know;  hence  he 
considered  himself  an  Epicurean.  In 
general  he  looked  on  philosophy  as 
mental  fencing,  as  useful  as  that  which 
was  taught  by  the  sword-master.  When 
discourses  on  it  wearied  him,  he  went 
to  the  circus  to  see  blood. 

He  did  not  believe  in  the  gods  any 
more  than  in  virtue,  truth,  and  happi- 
ness. He  believed  only  in  soothsay- 
ing, and  had  his  own  superstitions; 
moreover,  the  mysterious  beliefs  of 
the  Orient  roused  his  curiosity.  To 
slaves  he  was  a  good  master,  un- 
less when   occasional    tedium  brought 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

him  to  cruelty.  He  thought  life  a 
great  amphora,  which  was  the  more 
valuable  the  better  the  wine  contained 
in  it;  hence  he  tried  to  fill  his  own 
with  the  best.  He  did  not  love  any 
one,  but  he  loved  many  things,  among 
others  his  own  eagle-like  face  with 
splendid  skull,  and  his  shapely  patri- 
cian foot. 

In  the  first  years  of  his  frolicking 
life  he  loved  also  to  astound  Rome, 
and  succeeded  a  number  of  times. 
Later  he  grew  as  indifferent  to  that  as 
to  other  things. 


CHAPTER  11. 

At    last    he    ruined    himself.      His 

creditors  tore   his   property  to   pieces, 

and  in  place  of  it  there   remained   to 

Cinna    weariness,  as    after    great    toil, 

satiety,     and     one     more     unexpected 

thing,    a    certain    deep    disquiet.      He 

had    tried   wealth;  he    had    tried   love, 

as  that  age  understood  it ;  he  had  tried 

pleasure,    military   glory,  and   dangers. 

He  had  come  to   know   the   limits   of 

human   thought  more  or  less;  he  had 

come   in   contact  with  poetry  and   art. 

Hence  he  might  suppose  that  from  life 

he  had  taken  what  it  had  to  give.     Now 

he  felt  as   though  he   had   overlooked 
8 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

something  —  and  that  the  most  im- 
portant But  he  did  not  know  what  it 
was,  and  tortured  his  head  over  this 
problem  in  vain.  More  than  once  had 
he  striven  to  shake  himself  out  of  these 
thoughts,  and  out  of  this  disquiet.  He 
had  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  there 
was  nothing  more  in  life,  and  could  not 
be ;  but  straightway  his  disquiet,  in- 
stead of  diminishing,  increased  quickly 
to  such  a  degree  that  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  disquieted  not  only 
for  himself,  but  for  all  Rome.  He 
envied  the  Sceptics  and  also  con- 
sidered them  fools,  for  they  insisted 
that  one  may  fill  completely  the  void 
with  the  empty.  There  existed  in 
him  then  two  men,  as  it  were,  one  of 
whom  was  astonished  at  the  disquiet 
which  he  felt,  while  the  other  was 
Q 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

forced  to  recognize  it  as  perfectly 
normal. 

Soon  after  the  loss  of  his  property, 
thanks  to  great  family  influence,  Cinna 
was  sent  to  an  official  post  in  Alex- 
andria, partly  to  build  up  a  new  for- 
tune in  a  rich  country.  His  disquiet 
entered  the  ship  at  Brundisium,  and 
sailed  across  the  sea  with  him.  In 
Alexandria  Cinna  thought  that  ques- 
tions concerning  office,  new  people, 
another  society,  new  impressions, 
would  relieve  him  of  the  intrusive 
companion.     But  he  was  mistaken. 

Two  months  passed,  and  just  as  the 
grain  of  Demeter,  brought  from  Italy, 
grew  still  more  luxuriantly  in  the  rich 
soil  of  the  Delta,  so  his  disquiet  from  a 
sturdy  twig  changed,  as  it  were,  into 
a  spreading  cedar,  and  began  to  cast 

lO 


LET  US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

a  still  greater  shadow  on  the  soul  of 
Cinna. 

At  first  he  strove  to  free  himself  of 
this  shadow  by  the  same  life  that  he 
had  led  in  Rome  formerly.  Alexandria 
was  a  place  of  pleasure,  full  of  Grecian 
women  with  golden  hair  and  clear  com- 
plexions, which  the  Egyptian  sun  cov- 
ered with  a  transparent,  amber  lustre. 
In  their  society  he  sought  rest. 

But  when  this  also  proved  vain  he 

began  to  think  of  suicide.     Many  of  his 

comrades   had   freed    themselves    from 

life's  cares  in  that  manner,  and  for  causes 

still  more  foolish  than  those  which  Cinna 

had,  —  frequently  from  weariness  alone, 

from  the  emptiness  of  life,  or  a  lack  of 

desire  to  make  further  use  of  it.     When 

a  slave  held  a  sword  adroitly  and  with 

sufficient  strength,  one  instant  ended  all. 
II 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Cinna  caught  at  this  idea ;  but  when  he 
had  almost  resolved  to  obey  it,  a  won- 
derful dream  held  him  back.  Behold, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  when  he  was 
borne  across  the  river  ^  he  saw  on  the 
other  bank  his  disquiet  in  the  form  of 
a  wretched  slave ;  it  bowed  to  him,  say- 
ing, "  I  have  come  in  advance  to  receive 
thee."  Cinna  was  terrified  for  the  first 
time  in  life ;  because  he  understood  that 
if  he  could  not  think  of  existence  be- 
yond the  grave  without  disquiet,  then 
they  would  both  go  there. 

In  this  extreme,  he  resolved  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  sages  with  whom 
theSerapeum  was  crowded,  judging  that 
among  them  perhaps  he  might  find  the 
solution  of  his  riddle.  They,  it  is  true, 
were  unable  to  solve  any  doubt  of  his ; 


1  Styx. 
12 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

but  to  make  up  they  entitled  him  "of 
the  museum,"  which  title  they  offered 
usually  to  Romans  of  high  birth  and 
position.  That  was  small  consolation 
at  first;  and  the  stamp  of  sage,  given 
a  man  who  could  not  explain  that  which 
concerned  him  most  highly,  might  seem 
to  Cinna  ironical.  He  supposed,  how- 
ever, that  the  Serapeum  did  not  reveal 
all  its  wisdom  at  once,  perhaps  ;  and  he 
did  not  lose  hope  altogether. 

The  most  active  sage  in  Alexandria 
was  the  noble  Timon  of  Athens,  a  man 
of  wealth,  and  a  Roman  citizen.  He 
had  lived  a  number  of  years  in  Alex- 
andria, whither  he  had  come  to  sound 
the  depths  of  Egyptian  science.  It  was 
said  of  him  that  there  was  no  parchment 
or  papyrus  in  the  Library  which  he  had 
not  read,  and  that  he  possessed  all  the 
13 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

wisdom  of  mankind.  He  was,  more- 
over, mild  and  forbearing.  Cinna  dis- 
tinguished him  at  once  among  the 
multitude  of  pedants  and  commen- 
tators with  stifTened  brains,  and  soon 
formed  with  him  an  acquaintance  which, 
after  a  time,  was  changed  into  close 
intimacy,  and  even  into  friendship.  The 
young  Roman  admired  the  dialectic  skill, 
the  eloquence  and  dignity,  with  which 
the  old  man  spoke  of  lofty  themes 
touching  man's  destiny,  and  that  of  the 
world.  He  was  struck  especially  by 
this,  that  that  dignity  was  joined  to  a 
certain  sadness.  Later,  when  they  had 
grown  more  intimate,  Cinna  was  seized 
frequently  by  the  wish  to  inquire  of  the 
old  sage  the  cause  of  that  sadness,  and 
to  open  his  own  heart  to  him.  In  fact, 
it  came  to  that  finally. 
14 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  CERTAIN  evening,  after  animated 
discussions  about  the  transmigration  of 
souls,  they  remained  alone  on  the  ter- 
race, from  which  the  view  was  toward 
the  sea.  Cinna,  taking  Timon's  hand, 
declared  openly  what  the  great  torment 
of  his  life  was,  and  why  he  had  striven 
to  approach  the  scholars  and  philoso- 
phers of  the  Serapeum. 

"I  have  gained  this  much  at  least,** 
said  he ;  "I  have  learned  to  know  you, 
O  Timon,  and  I  understand  now  that  if 
you  cannot  solve  my  life's  riddle,  no 
other  man  can." 

»5 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

Timon  gazed  for  a  time  at  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  sea,  in  which  the  new 
moon  was  reflected ;  then  he  said,  — 

**  Hast  thou  seen  those  flocks  of  birds, 
Cinna,  which  fly  past  here  in  winter  from 
northern  glooms?  Dost  thou  know 
what  they  seek  in  Egypt?" 

*'  I  do.     Warmth  and  light." 

"Souls  of  men  also  seek  warmth, 
which  is  love,  and  light,  which  means 
truth.  The  birds  know  whither  they  are 
flying  for  their  good ;  but  souls  are  fly- 
ing over  roadless  places,  in  wandering, 
in  sadness,  and  disquiet." 

"Why  can  they  not  find  the  road, 
noble  Timon?" 

"  Once  man's  repose  was  in  the  gods ; 

to-day,  faith  in  the  gods  is  burnt  out, 

like  oil  in  a  lamp.     Men  thought  that 

to  souls  philosophy  v^ould  be  the  light 
i6 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

of  truth;  to-day,  as  thou  knowest  best 
of  all,  on  its  ruins  in  Rome  and  in  the 
Academy  in  Athens,  and  here,  sit  Scep- 
tics, to  whom  it  seemed  that  it  was 
bringing  in  peace,  but  it  brought  in  dis- 
quiet. For  to  renounce  light  and  heat 
IS  to  leave  the  soul  in  darkness,  which 
is  disquiet.  Hence,  stretching  out  our 
hands  before  us,  we  seek  an  exit  in 
groping." 

"Hast  thou  not  found  it?  " 

**  I  have  sought,  and  I  have  not  found 
it.  Thou  hast  sought  it  in  pleasure,  I  in 
thought;  and  the  same  mist  encircles 
us.  Know  then  that  not  thou  alone  art 
suffering,  but  in  thee  the  soul  of  the 
world  is  tortured.  Is  it  long  since  thou 
hast  ceased  to  believe  in  the  gods  ?  " 

"  At  Rome  they  are  honored  publicly 
yet,  and  even  new  ones  are  brought  from 

2  17 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

Asia  and  Egypt ;  but  no  one  believes  in 
them  sincerely,  except  dealers  in  vege- 
tables, who  come  in  the  morning  from 
the  country  to  the  city." 

"  And  these  are  the  only  people  who 
live  in  peace.'* 

"  They  are  like  those  who  bow  down 
here  to  cats  and  onions." 

"  Just  like  those,  who,  in  the  manner 
of  beasts,  ask  for  nothing  beyond  sleep 
after  eating.'* 

**  But  is  life  worth  the  living  in  view 
of  this?" 

'*  Do  I  know  what  death  will  bring?  '* 

"  What  is  the  difference,  then,  between 
thee  and  the  Sceptics?  " 

*'  Sceptics  are  satisfied  with  darkness, 

or  feign  that  they   are  satisfied,  but   I 

suffer  in  it." 

'*  And  thou  seest  no  salvation?" 
i8 


LET   US  FOLLOW  HIM. 

Timon  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and 
then  answered  slowly,  as  if  with  hesita- 
tion, — 

'*  I  wait  for  it." 

"Whence?" 

"  I  know  not." 

Then  he  rested  his  head  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand ;  and  as  if  under  the  influ- 
ence of  that  silence  which  had  settled 
down  on  the  terrace,  he  began  to  speak 
in  a  low  and  measured  voice,  — 

"  A  wonderful  thing ;  but  at  times  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  the  world  contained 
nothing  beyond  that  which  we  know, 
and  if  we  could  be  nothing  more  than 
we  are,  this  disquiet  would  not  exist  in 
us.  So  in  this  sickness  I  find  hope  of 
health.  Faith  in  Olympus  and  phil- 
osophy are  dead,  but  health  may  be 
some  new  truth  which  I  know  not." 
-9 


LET   US    FOLLOW    HIM. 

Beyond  expectation,  that  talk  brought 
great  solace  to  Cinna.  When  he  heard 
that  the  whole  world  was  sick,  and  not 
he  alone,  he  felt  as  if  some  one  had 
taken  a  great  weight  from  him  and  dis- 
tributed it  on  a  thousand  shoulders. 


20 


CHAPTER  IV. 

From  that  time  the  friendship  uniting 
Cinna  and  the  old  Greek  became  still 
more  intimate.  They  visited  each  other 
frequently  and  exchanged  thoughts,  like 
bread  in  time  of  a  banquet.  Besides, 
Cinna,  in  spite  of  experience  and  the 
weariness  which  comes  of  use,  had  not 
reached  the  age  yet  when  life  has  ceased 
to  contain  the  charm  of  unknown  things ; 
and  just  this  charm  he  found  in  Antea, 
Timon's  only  daughter. 

Her  fame  was  not  less  in  Alexandria 
than  the  fame  of  her  father.  Eminent 
Romans  frequenting  Timon's  house  did 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

her  homage,  Greeks  did  her  homage, 
philosophers  from  the  Serapeum  did 
her  homage,  and  so  did  the  people. 
Timon  did  not  restrict  her  to  the  gine- 
ceum,  after  the  manner  of  other  women; 
and  he  tried  to  transfer  to  her  everything 
that  he  himself  knew.  When  she  had 
passed  the  years  of  childhood,  he  read 
Greek  books  with  her,  and  even  Latin 
and  Hebrew  ;  for,  gifted  with  an  uncom- 
mon memory,  and  reared  in  many- 
tongued  Alexandria,  she  learned  those 
languages  quickly.  She  was  a  compan- 
ion to  him  in  thoughts;  she  took  fre- 
quent part  in  the  discussions  which  were 
held  in  Timon's  house  during  Sympo- 
siums. Often  in  the  labyrinth  of  difficult 
questions,  she  was  able,  like  Ariadne,  to 
avoid  going  astray  herself  and  to  extri- 
cate others.     Her  father   honored  and 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

admired  her.  The  charm  of  mystery 
and  almost  of  sacredness  surrounded 
her,  besides;  for  she  had  prophetic 
dreams,  in  which  she  saw  things  invis- 
ible to  common  mortals.  The  old  sage 
loved  her  as  his  own  soul,  and  the  more 
for  this  reason,  that  he  was  afraid  of 
losing  her ;  for  frequently  she  said  that 
beings  appeared  in  dreams  to  her, — 
ominous  beings,  —  also  a  certain  divine 
light,  and  she  knew  not  whether  this 
light  was  the  source  of  life  or  death. 

Meanwhile  she  was  met  only  by  love. 
The  Egyptians,  who  frequented  Timon's 
house,  called  her  the  Lotus;  perhaps 
because  that  flower  received  divine  honor 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  perhaps 
also  because  whoever  saw  it  might  forget 
the  whole  world  besides. 

Her  beauty  was  equal  to  her  wisdom. 
23 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

The  Egyptian  sun  did  not  darken  her 
face,  in  which  the  rosy  rays  of  light 
seemed  to  be  enclosed  in  transparent 
mother-of-pearl.  Her  eyes  had  the 
blueness  of  the  Nile,  and  their  glances 
flowed  from  a  remoteness  as  unknown 
as  the  source  of  that  mysterious  river. 
When  Cinna  saw  and  heard  her  the  first 
time,  on  returning  home,  he  conceived 
the  wish  to  rear  an  altar  to  her  in  the 
atrium  of  his  house,  and  offer  a  white 
dove  on  it.  He  had  met  thousands  of 
women  in  his  life,  beginning  with  virgins 
from  the  remote  north,  with  white  eye- 
lashes and  hair  the  color  of  ripe  wheat, 
and  ending  with  Numidians,  black  as 
lava ;  but  he  had  not  met  hitherto  such 
a  figure,  or  such  a  soul.  And  the  oftener 
he  saw  her,  the  better  he  knew  her,  the 

oftener  it  happened  to  him  to  hear  her 
24 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

words,  the  more  did  amazement  increase 
in  him.  Sometimes  he,  who  did  not 
believe  in  the  gods,  thought  that  Antea 
could  not  be  the  daughter  of  Timon, 
but  of  a  god,  hence  only  half  woman, 
and  therefore  half  immortal. 

And  soon  he  loved  her  with  a  love 
unexpected,  immense,  irresistible,  as 
different  from  the  feeling  which  he  had 
known  up  to  that  time  as  Antea  was 
different  from  other  women.  He  desired 
to  love  her  only  to  do  her  honor. 
Hence  he  was  willing  to  give  blood  to 
possess  her.  He  felt  that  he  would  pre- 
fer to  be  a  beggar  with  her  than  to  be 
Caesar  without  her.  And  as  a  whirlpool 
of  the  sea  sweeps  away  with  irresistible 
might  all  that  comes  within  its  circle,  so 
Cinna's  love  swept  away  his   soul,  his 

heart,  his  thoughts,  his  days,  his  nights, 
25 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

and  everything  out  of  which  life  is 
composed. 

Till  at  last  it  swept  away  Antea. 

"  Tufelix  (Thou  art  happy),  Cinna !  " 
said  his  friends. 

"  Tu  felixy  Cinna,"  said  he  to  himself; 
and  when  at  last  he  married  her,  when 
her  divine  lips  uttered  the  sacramental 
words,  **  Where  thou  art,  Caius,  there  am 
I,  Caia,"  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  felic- 
ity was  like  the  sea,  —  inexhaustible  and 
boundless. 


26 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  YEAR  passed,  and  that  young  wife 
received  at  her  domestic  hearth  almost 
divine  honor;  to  her  husband  she  was 
the  sight  of  his  eyes,  love,  wisdom,  light. 
But  Cinna,  comparing  his  happiness 
with  the  sea,  forgot  that  the  sea  has  its 
ebbs. 

After  a  year  Antea  fell  into  an  ill- 
ness cruel  and  unknown.  Her  dreams 
changed  into  terrible  visions,  which  ex- 
hausted her  life.  In  her  face  the  rays 
of  light  were  quenched ;  there  remained 
only  the  paleness  of  mother-of-pearl. 
Her  hands  began  to  be  transparent ;  her 

eyes  sank  deeply  under  her  forehead; 
27 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

and  the  rosy  lotus   became   more  and 

more  a  white  lotus,  white  as  the  face  of 

the  dead.     It  was  noticed  that  falcons 

began  to   circle   above   Cinna's   house, 

which  in  Egypt  was  a  herald  of  death. 

The  visions  grew  more  and  more  terrible. 

When    at   midday  the  sun  filled  the 

world  with  bright  light,  and  the  city  was 

buried  in  silence,  it  seemed  to  Antea 

that   she  heard  around   her   the   quick 

steps   of  invisible    beings,    and    in   the 

depth  of  the  air  she  saw  a  dry,  yellow, 

corpse-like  face  gazing  with  black  eyes 

at  her.     Those  eyes  gazed  persistently, 

as  if  summoning  her  to  go  somewhere 

into  a  darkness  full   of  mysteries   and 

dread.     Then   Antea's   body   began    to 

tremble,  as  in  a  fever ;  her  forehead  was 

covered  with  pallor,  with  drops  of  cold 

sweat;    and   that  honored   priestess   of 
28 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

the  domestic  hearth  was  changed  into  a 
helpless  and  terrified  child,  who,  hiding 
on  her  husband's  breast,  repeated  with 
pale  lips,  — 

"  Save  me,  O  Caius !  defend  me !  " 
And  Caius  would  have  hurled  himself 
at  every  spectre  which  Persephone  might 
send  from  the  nether  world,  but  in  vain 
did  he  strain  his  eyes  into  space  round 
about.  As  is  usual  in  midday  hours,  it 
was  lonely.  White  light  filled  the  city ; 
the  sea  seemed  to  burn  in  the  sun,  and 
in  the  silence  was  heard  only  the  calling 
of  falcons  circling  above  the  house. 

The  visions  grew  more  and  more  fre- 
quent, and  at  last  they  came  daily. 
They  pursued  Antea  in  the  interior  of 
the  house,  as  well  as  in  the  atrium  and 
the    chambers.     Cinna,    by    advice    of 

physicians,   brought   in  Egyptian   sam- 
29 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

buka  players,  and  Bedouins,  blowing 
clay  whistles ;  the  noisy  music  of  these 
was  to  drown  the  sound  made  by  the 
invisible  beings.  But  all  this  proved 
futile.  Antea  heard  the  sound  amid  the 
greatest  uproar ;  and  when  the  sun  be- 
came so  high  that  a  man's  shadow  was 
near  his  feet,  like  a  garment  hanging 
from  the  arm,  in  the  air  quivering  from 
heat  appeared  the  face  of  the  corpse, 
and  looking  at  Antea  with  glassy  eyes 
it  moved  away  gradually,  as  if  to  say, 
*^ Follow  me!" 

Sometimes  it  seemed  to  Antea  that 
the  lips  of  the  corpse  moved  slowly; 
sometimes  that  black  disgusting  beetles 
came  out  from  between  them  and  flew 
through  the  air  toward  her.  At  the 
very  thought  of  that  vision   her   eyes 

were  filled  with  terror,  and  at  last  life 
30 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

became  such  a  dreadful  torture  that  she 
begged  Cinna  to  hold  a  sword  for  her, 
or  to  let  her  drink  poison. 

But  he  knew  that  he  had  not  strength 
for  the  deed.  With  that  very  sword  he 
would  have  opened  his  own  veins  to 
serve  Antea,  but  he  could  not  take  her 
life.  When  he  imagined  that  dear  face 
of  hers  dead,  with  closed  eyes,  filled 
with  icy  composure,  and  that  breast 
opened  with  his  sword,  he  felt  that  he 
must  go  mad  before  he  could  kill  her. 

A  certain  Greek  physician  told  him 
that  Hecate  appeared  to  Antea,  and 
that  those  invisible  beings  whose  noise 
frightened  the  sick  woman  were  the  at- 
tendants of  the  ominous  divinity.  Ac- 
cording to  him,  there  was  no  salvation 
for  Antea,  for  whoso  has  seen  Hecate 
must  die. 

31 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Then  Cinna,  who  not  long  before 
would  have  laughed  at  faith  in  Hecate, 
sacrificed  a  hecatomb  to  her.  But  the 
sacrifice  was  useless,  and  next  day  the 
gloomy  eyes  were  gazing  at  Antea 
about  midday. 

Attendants  covered  her  head;  but 
she  saw  the  face  even  through  the 
thickest  covering.  Then  they  confined 
her  in  a  dark  room ;  the  face  looked  at 
her  from  the  walls,  illuminating  the 
darkness  with  its  pale  gleam  of  a 
corpse. 

Every  evening  the  sick  woman  grew 
better,  and  fell  into  such  a  deep  sleep 
that  to  Cinna  and  Timon  it  seemed  more 
than  once  as  though  she  would  not  wake 
again.  Soon  she  grew  so  weak  that  she 
could  not  walk  without  assistance.  She 
was  borne  about  in  a  litter. 
32 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Cinna's  former  disquiet  returned  with 
a  hundredfold  greater  force  and  took 
complete  possession  of  him.  He  was 
terrified  regarding  the  life  of  Antea; 
but  there  was  also  a  wonderful  feeling 
that  her  sickness  was  in  some  way  mys- 
teriously connected  with  that  of  which 
he  had  spoken  in  his  first  conversation 
with  Timon.  Perhaps  the  old  sage  had 
the  same  thought ;  but  Cinna  would  not 
ask  him,  and  feared  to  talk  concerning 
this  matter. 

Meanwhile  the  sick  woman  withered 
like  a  flower  in  whose  cup  a  poisonous 
spider  has  settled. 

But  the  despairing  Cinna  strove  against 
hope  to  save  her.  First  he  took  her  to 
the  desert  near  Memphis;  but  when  a 
stay  in  the  quiet  of  the  pyramids  gave 
no  respite  from  the  dreadful  visions,  he 
3  33 


LET   US    FOLLOW  HIM. 

returned  to  Alexandria  and  surrounded 
her  with  soothsayers,  who  professed  to 
enchant  away  diseases.  He  brought  in 
from  every  kind  of  shameless  rabble 
people  who  exploited  the  credulity  of 
mankind  by  marvellous  medicines.  But 
he  had  no  choice  left,  and  snatched  at 
every  method. 

At  this  time  there  came  from  Caesarea 
a  renowned  physician,  a  Hebrew,  Joseph, 
son  of  Khuza.  Cinna  brought  him  at 
once  to  his  wife,  and  for  a  time  hope  re- 
turned to  his  heart.  Joseph,  who  had 
no  faith  in  Greek  and  Roman  gods,  re- 
jected contemptuously  the  opinion  about 
Hecate.  He  supposed  it  more  likely 
that  demons  had  entered  the  sick 
woman,  and  advised  Cinna  to  leave 
Egypt,  where,  in  addition  to  demons, 
marshy  effluvia  of  the  Delta  might  in- 
34 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

jure  Antea.  He  advised  also,  perhaps 
because  he  was  a  Hebrew,  to  go  to 
Jerusalem,  —  a  place  where  demons 
have  no  entrance,  and  where  the  air 
IS  dry  and  wholesome. 

Cinna  followed  this  advice  the  more 
willingly,  —  first,  because  there  was  no 
other,  and  second,  because  Jerusalem 
was  governed  by  an  acquaintance  of 
his,  a  procurator  whose  ancestors 
were  formerly  clients  of  the  house  of 
Cinna. 

In  fact,  when  they  came,  the  procu- 
rator, Pontius,  received  them  with  open 
arms  and  gave  them  as  dwelling  his  own 
summer  residence,  which  stood  near  the 
walls  of  the  city.  But  Cinna's  hope  was 
swept  away  before  his  arrival.  The 
corpse-like  face  looked  at  Antea  even 
on  the  deck  of  the  galley;  on  coming 
35 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

to  the  city  the  sick  woman  waited  for 
midday  with  the  same  deathly  terror  as 
on  a  time  in  Alexandria. 

And  so  their  days  began  to  pass  in 
oppression,  despair,  and  fear  of  death. 


36 


CHAPTER  VI. 

In  the  atrium,  in  spite  of  the  fountain, 
the  shady  portico,  and  the  early  hour,  it 
was  extremely  hot,  for  the  marble  was 
heated  by  the  spring  sun ;  but  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  house  there  grew  an  old, 
branching  pistachio-tree,  which  shaded 
a  considerable  area  round  about  As 
the  place  was  open,  the  breeze  there 
was  far  greater  than  elsewhere;  hence 
Cinna  commanded  to  carry  to  that  spot 
the  litter,  decked  with  hyacinths  and 
apple-blossoms,  in  which  Antea  was 
resting.  Then  sitting  near  her,  he 
placed  his  palm  on  her  hands,  which 
were  as  pale  as  alabaster,  and  asked,  — 
37 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 


"Is  it  pleasant  for  thee  here,  caris- 
sima?'* 

"  Pleasant,"  answered  she,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice. 

And  she  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  sleep 
had  seized  her.  Silence  followed.  Only 
the  breeze  moved  with  a  rustling  the 
branches  of  the  pistachio-tree;  and  on 
the  earth  around  the  litter  were  quiver- 
ing golden  spots,  formed  of  sun-rays> 
which  broke  through  between  the  leaves ; 
locusts  were  hissing  among  the  rocks. 

The  sick  woman  opened  her  eyes 
after  a  moment. 

"  Caius,"  said  she,  *'  is  it  true  that  in 
this  country  a  philosopher  has  appeared, 
who  cures  the  sick?" 

"  They  call  such  men  prophets  here," 
answered  Cinna.  "  I  have  heard  of  him, 
and  I  wished  to  bring  him  to  thee,  but  it 
38 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

turned  out  that  he  was  a  false  miracle- 
worker.  Besides,  he  blasphemed  against 
the  sanctuary  and  the  religion  of  this 
country;  hence  the  procurator  has  de- 
livered him  to  death,  and  this  very  day 
he  is  to  be  crucified." 

Antea  dropped  her  head. 

'*Time  will  cure  thee,"  said  Cinna, 
seeing  the  sadness  reflected  on  her 
face. 

*'  Time  is  at  the  service  of  death,  not 
of  life,"  answered  she,  slowly. 

And  again  silence  ensued;  round 
about  the  golden  spots  quivered  contin- 
ually; the  locusts  hissed  still  more 
loudly,  and  from  the  crannies  of  the 
cliff  little  lizards  crept  out  onto  stones, 
and  sought  sunny  places. 

Cinna  looked  from  moment  to  moment 
at  Antea,  and  for  the  thousandth  time 
39 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

despairing  thoughts  flew  through  his 
head.  He  felt  that  all  means  of  salva- 
tion had  been  spent,  that  there  was  no 
ray  of  hope,  that  soon  the  dear  form 
before  him  would  become  a  vanishing 
shadow  and  a  handful  of  dust  in  a 
columbarium. 

Even  now  while  lying  with  closed 
eyes  in  the  litter  decked  with  flowers, 
she  seemed  dead. 

"  I  will  follow  thee !  *'  said  Cinna,  in 
his  soul. 

Meanwhile  steps  were  heard  in  the 
distance.  Immediately  Antea's  face  be- 
came white  as  chalk ;  from  between  her 
half-open  lips  came  hurried  breathing; 
her  bosom  heaved  quickly.  The  ill- 
fated  martyr  felt  sure  that  the  crowd 
of  invisible  beings  which  preceded  the 

corpse  with  glassy  eyes  were  drawing 
40 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

near.    Cinna  seized  her  hands  and  strove 
to  pacify  her. 

"  Fear  not,  Antea ;  I  hear  those  steps 
too.  That  is  Pontius,  who  is  coming  to 
visit  us,"  added  he,  after  a  while.  In 
fact,  the  procurator,  attended  by  two 
slaves,  appeared  at  the  turn  of  the  path. 
He  was  a  man  no  longer  young ;  he  had 
an  oval  face  carefully  shaven,  full  of 
assumed  dignity,  and  also  of  suffering 
and  care. 

"A  greeting  to  thee,  noble  Cinna, 
and  to  thee,  divine  Antea !  "  said  he,  as 
he  came  under  the  shade  of  the  pis- 
tachio-tree. "  After  a  cold  night  the 
day  has  grown  hot.  May  it  favor  you 
both,  and  may  the  health  of  Antea 
bloom  like  those  hyacinths  and  those 
apple-tree  twigs,  which  adorn  her 
litter." 

41 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

"  Peace  be  with  thee,  and  be  greeted !  " 
answered  Cinna. 

The  procurator  seated  himself  on  a 
piece  of  rock,  looked  at  Antea,  frowned 
imperceptibly,  and  answered,  — 

**  Loneliness  produces  sadness  and 
sickness;  but  in  the  midst  of  crowds 
there  is  no  place  for  fear,  hence  I  will 
give  one  advice  to  thee.  Unfortunately 
this  is  neither  Antioch  nor  Csesarea; 
there  are  no  games  here,  no  horse-races  ; 
and  were  we  to  erect  a  circus,  those 
madmen  would  tear  it  down  the  next 
day.  Here  thou  wilt  hear  nothing  but 
this  phrase,  '  the  law,'  and  everything 
disturbs  that  law.  I  would  rather  be  in 
Scythia.*' 

**  Of  what  dost  thou  wish  to  speak, 

O  Pilate?'* 

'*  Indeed,  I  have  wandered  from  my 
42 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

subject;  but  cares  are  the  cause  of  this. 
I  have  said  that  among  crowds  there 
is  no  room  for  fear.  Now  ye  can  have 
a  spectacle  to-day.  In  Jerusalem,  ye 
should  be  amused  with  something ; 
above  all,  Antea  should  be  in  the  midst 
of  crowds  at  midday.  Three  men  will 
die  on  the  cross  to-day ;  that  is  better 
than  nothing !  Because  of  the  Pasch  a 
mob  of  the  strangest  ruffians  has  come 
from  out  all  this  land  to  the  city.  Ye 
can  look  at  those  people.  I  will  com- 
mand to  give  you  a  place  apart  near  the 
crosses.  I  hope  that  the  condemned 
will  die  bravely.  One  of  them  is  a  mar- 
vellous person :  he  calls  himself  the  Son 
of  God ;  he  is  as  mild  as  a  dove,  and 
has  really  done  nothing  to  merit  death." 
"  And  didst  thou  condemn  him  to  the 
cross?" 

43 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

"  I  wanted  to  rid  myself  of  trouble, 
and  also  avoid  stirring  up  that  nest  of 
hornets  that  buzz  around  the  temple; 
even  as  it  is,  they  send  complaints  to 
Rome  against  me.  Besides,  the  accused 
is  not  a  Roman  citizen." 

"  The  man  will  not  suffer  less  for  that 
reason.'* 

The  procurator  made  no  answer,  but 
after  a  while  he  began  to  speak,  as  if  to 
himself,  — 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  I  do  not 
like,  —  exaggeration.  Whoever  uses 
that  word  before  me  takes  away  my 
cheerfulness  for  the  day.  The  golden 
mean!  that  is  what  wisdom  commands 
us  to  follow,  as  I  think.  And  there  is 
not  a  corner  of  the  world  in  which  that 
principle  is  less  respected  than  here. 
How  all  this  tortures  me!  how  it  tor- 
44 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

tures  me!  In  nothing  is  there  repose, 
in  nothing  balance,  —  neither  in  men 
nor  in  nature.  At  present,  for  example, 
it  is  spring;  the  nights  are  cold;  but 
during  the  day  there  is  such  heat  that  it 
is  difficult  to  walk  on  stones.  It  is  long 
yet  till  midday,  and  see  what  is  happen- 
ing !  Of  the  people  —  better  not  speak ! 
I  am  here,  because  I  must  be  here. 
Never  mind  that!  I  might  leave  my 
subject  a  second  time.  Go  to  witness 
the  crucifixion.  I  am  convinced  that 
that  Nazarene  will  die  valiantly.  I  gave 
command  to  flog  him,  thinking  in  that 
way  to  save  him  from  death.  I  am  not 
cruel.  When  he  was  lashed  he  was  as 
patient  as  a  lamb,  and  he  blessed  the 
people.  When  he  was  covered  with 
blood,  he  raised  his  eyes  and  prayed. 
That  is  the  most  marvellous  person  that 
4S 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

I  have  seen  in  my  life.  My  wife  has 
not  given  me  a  moment  of  peace  be- 
cause of  him.  *  Permit  not  the  death  of 
that  innocent  man ! '  this  is  what  she 
has  been  dinning  into  my  ears  since 
daybreak.  I  wanted  to  save  him. 
Twice  I  went  to  the  bema  and  spoke 
to  those  priests  and  that  mangy  rabble. 
They  answered  in  one  voice,  raising 
their  heads  and  opening  their  jaws  to 
the  ears,  *  Crucify  him!"* 

"Didst  thou  yield  to  them?"  asked 
Cinna. 

"  I  did,  for  in  the  city  there  would  be 
mobs,  and  I  am  here  to  keep  peace.  I 
must  do  my  duty.  I  dislike  exaggera- 
tion, and,  besides,  I  am  mortally  wearied ; 
but  when  I  undertake  a  thing,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  sacrifice  the  life  of  one  man 
for  the  general  welfare,  especially  when 
46 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

he  is  an  unknown  person  whom  no  one 
will  mention.  All  the  worse  for  him 
that  he  is  not  a  Roman." 

"  The  sun  shines  not  on  Rome  alone/* 
whispered  Antea. 

"Divine  Antea,"  answered  the  pro- 
curator, "I  might  answer  that  on  the 
whole  round  of  the  earth  the  sun  shines 
on  Roman  rule ;  therefore  for  the  good 
of  that  rule  it  is  proper  to  sacrifice 
everything,  and  disturbances  undermine 
our  authority.  But,  above  all,  I  beg  of 
thee  not  to  ask  me  to  change  the  sen- 
tence. Cinna  will  tell  thee  that  that 
cannot  be,  and  that,  once  sentence  is 
pronounced,  Csesar  alone  can  change  it. 
Though  I  wished,  I  have  not  the  power 
to  change.    Is  that  not  the  case,  Caius  ?  " 

"  It  is." 

But  those  words  caused  Antea  evident 
47 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

pain,  for  she  said,  thinking  of  herself, 
perhaps,  — 

"Then  it  is  possible  to  suffer  and 
die  without  being  guilty." 

'*  No  one  is  without  guilt,"  answered 
Pontius.  "  This  Nazarene  has  com- 
mitted no  crime;  hence  I,  as  procu- 
rator, washed  my  hands.  But  as  a  man, 
I  condemn  his  teaching.  I  conversed 
with  him  purposely  rather  long,  wish- 
ing to  test  the  man,  and  convinced 
myself  that  he  announces  monstrous 
things.  The  case  is  difficult!  The 
world  must  stand  on  sound  sense. 
Who  denies  that  virtue  is  needed? 
Certainly  not  I.  But  even  the  Stoics 
only  teach  men  to  endure  opposition 
with  calmness;  they  do  not  insist 
that  we   should    renounce    everything, 

from     our     property    to     our     dinner. 
48 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Answer,  Cinna,  —  thou  art  a  man  of 
sound  judgment,  —  what  wouldst  thou 
think  of  me  were  I,  neither  from  one 
cause  nor  another,  to  bestow  this  house 
in  which  thou  art  dwelling  on  those 
tattered  fellows  who  warm  themselves 
in  the  sun  at  the  Joppa  gate?  And 
he  insists  on  just  such  things.  Besides, 
he  says  that  we  should  love  all  equally : 
the  Jews  as  well  as  the  Romans  them- 
selves, the  Romans  as  the  Egyptians, 
the  Egyptians  as  the  Africans,  and  so 
on.  I  confess  that  I  have  had  enough 
of  this.  At  the  moment  when  his  life 
is  in  peril,  he  bears  himself  as  if  the 
question  were  of  some  one  else;  he 
teaches  —  and  prays.  It  is  not  my 
duty  to  save  a  man  who  has  no  care 
for  his  own   safety.     Whoso   does  not 

know  how  to  preserve  measure  in  any- 
4  49 


LET  US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

thing  IS  not  a  man  of  judgment.  More- 
over, he  calls  himself  the  Son  of  God, 
and  disturbs  the  foundations  on  which 
society  rests,  and  therefore  harms  peo- 
ple. Let  him  think  what  he  likes  in 
his  soul,  if  he  will  not  raise  disturb- 
ance. As  a  man,  I  protest  against  his 
teaching.  If  I  do  not  believe  in  the 
gods,  let  us  concede  that  it  is  my  af- 
fair. Still  I  recognize  the  use  of  reli- 
gion, and  I  declare  so  publicly,  for  I 
judge  that  religion  is  a  curb  on  peo- 
ple. Horses  must  be  harnessed,  and 
harnessed  securely.  Finally,  death 
should  not  be  terrible  to  that  Naza- 
rene,  for  he  declares  that  he  will  rise 
from  the  dead.'* 

Cinna  and  Antea  looked  at  each 
other  with  amazement. 

"That  he  will  rise  from  the  dead?*' 
SO 


LET  US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

"  Neither  more  nor  less ;  after  three 
days.  So  at  least  his  disciples  declare. 
I  forgot  to  ask  him  myself.  For  that 
matter,  it  is  all  one,  since  death  liber- 
ates a  man  from  promises.  And  even 
should  he  not  rise  from  the  dead,  he 
will  lose  nothing,  since,  according  to 
his  teaching,  genuine  happiness  and 
eternal  life  begin  only  after  death.  He 
speaks  of  this,  indeed,  as  a  man  per- 
fectly certain.  In  his  Hades  it  is 
brighter  than  in  the  world  under  the 
sun,  and  whoso  suffers  more  in  this 
world  will  enter  that  with  greater  cer- 
tainty; he  must  only  love,  and  love, 
and  love.** 

"  A  wonderful  doctrine,**  said  Antea. 

"And  these  people  here  cry  to  thee, 
*  Crucify  him !  *  ?  **  inquired  Cinna. 

"  And  I  do  not  even  wonder  at  this, 
SI 


LET    US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

for  hatred  is  the  soul  of  this  people, 
for  what,  if  not  hatred,  can  demand 
that  love  be  crucified?" 

Antea  rubbed  her  forehead  with  her 
emaciated  hand. 

''  And  is  he  certain  that  it  is  possible 
to  live  and  be  happy  after  death?'' 

"That  is  why  neither  the  cross  nor 
death  terrify  him.'' 

"  How  good  that  would  be,  Caius !  " 

"  How  does  he  know  this?  "  inquired 
she,  after  a  while. 

The  procurator  waved  his  hand: 
"  He  says  that  he  knows  it  from  the 
Father  of  all,  who  for  the  Jews  is  the 
same  as  Jove  for  us,  with  this  differ- 
ence, that,  according  to  the  Nazarene, 
the  Father  alone  is  one  and  merciful." 

''  How  good  that  would  be,  Caius !  " 
repeated  the  sick  woman. 
52 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Cinna  opened  his  lips  as  if  to  make 
some  answer,  but  remained  silent;  and 
the  conversation  stopped.  Evidently 
Pontius  was  continuing  to  think  of  the 
strange  doctrine  of  the  Nazarene,  for  he 
shook  his  head  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders repeatedly.  At  last  he  rose  and 
began  to  take  leave. 

All  at  once  Antea  said, — 

"Caius,  let  us  go  to  look  at  that 
Nazarene.'* 

"  Hasten,"  said  Pilate,  as  he  was  going 
away;  "the  procession  will  move  soon.*' 


53 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  day,  hot  and  bright  from  early 
morning,  was  obscured  about  midday. 
From  the  northeast  clouds  were  rolling 
up,  either  dark  or  copper-colored,  not 
over  large,  but  dense,  as  if  pregnant 
with  a  tempest.  Between  them  the 
deep  blue  of  the  sky  was  still  visible, 
but  it  was  easy  to  foresee  that  they 
would  soon  pack  together  and  conceal 
the  whole  round  of  the  sky.  Meanwhile 
the  sun  covered  the  edges  of  them  with 
fire  and  gold.  Over  the  city  itself  and 
the  adjacent  hills  there  extended  yet  a 
broad  space  of  clear  blue,  and  in  the 
valley  there  was  no  breath  of  wind. 
S4 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

On  the  lofty  platform  of  ground  called 
Golgotha  stood  here  and  there  small 
groups  of  people  who  had  preceded  the 
procession  which  was  to  move  from  the 
city.  The  sun  illuminated  broad,  stony 
spaces,  which  were  empty,  gloomy,  and 
barren;  their  monotonous  pearl-color 
was  interrupted  only  by  the  black  net 
of  ravines  and  gullies,  the  blacker  be- 
cause the  platform  itself  was  covered 
with  light.  In  the  distance  were  visible 
more  elevated  eminences,  equally  empty, 
veiled  by  the  blue  haze  of  distance. 

Lower  down,  between  the  walls  of  the 
city  and  the  platform  of  Golgotha,  lay  a 
plain  bordered  in  places  with  cliffs  less 
naked.  From  crannies  in  which  had 
collected  some  little  fertile  earth,  fig- 
trees  peeped  forth  with  few  and  scant 
leaves.  Here  and  there  rose  flat-roofed 
55 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

buildings  fixed  to  the  cliff-side,  like 
swallows*  nests  to  stone  walls,  or  shining 
from  afar  in  the  sun-rays  were  sepul- 
chres, painted  white.  At  present,  be- 
cause of  the  approaching  holidays  and 
the  concourse  of  provincials  in  the 
capital,  multitudes  of  huts  and  tents  had 
been  raised  near  the  city  walls;  these 
formed  whole  encampments  filled  with 
men  and  camels. 

The  sun  rose  ever  higher  on  that 
expanse  of  heaven  which  was  still  free 
from  clouds.  The  hours  were  approach- 
ing in  which  usually  deep  silence  reigned 
on  those  heights,  for  every  living  crea- 
ture sought  refuge  inside  the  walls  or 
within  the  ravines.  And  even  at  this 
time,  in  spite  of  uncommon  animation, 
there  was  a  certain  sadness  in  that 
neighborhood    in    which    the    dazzling 

56 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

light  fell  not  on  green,  but  on  gray 
stone  expanses.  The  noise  of  distant 
voices,  coming  from  the  direction  of  the 
walls,  was  changed  into  the  sound  of 
waves,  as  it  were,  and  seemed  to  be 
swallowed  by  the  silence. 

The  single  groups  of  people  waiting 
on  Golgotha  since  morning  turned  their 
faces  toward  the  city,  whence  the  pro- 
cession might  move  at  any  moment. 
Antea's  litter  arrived;  a  few  soldiers, 
sent  by  the  procurator,  preceded  it. 
These  were  to  open  a  way  through  the 
multitude,  and  in  case  of  need  restrain 
from  deeds  of  disrespect  the  fanatical 
throng,  and  those  who  hated  foreigners. 
At  the  side  of  the  litter  walked  Cinna, 
in  company  with  the  centurion  Rufilus. 

Antea  was  calmer,  less  frightened 
than  usual  at  the  approach  of  midday, 
57 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

and  with  it  the  terror  of  dreadful  visions, 
which  had  drawn  the  life  out  of  her. 
What  the  procurator  had  said  touching 
the  young  Nazarene,  had  attracted  her 
mind  and  turned  attention  from  her  own 
misery.  For  her  there  was  in  this  some- 
thing wonderful  which  she  could  hardly 
understand.  The  world  of  that  time 
had  seen  many  persons  die  as  calmly 
as  a  funeral  pile  quenches  when  the 
fuel  in  it  is  consumed.  But  that  was 
a  calmness  coming  from  bravery,  or 
from  a  philosophic  agreement  with  the 
implacable  necessity  of  exchanging  light 
for  darkness,  real  life  for  an  existence 
misty,  vanishing,  and  indefinite.  No 
one  up  to  that  time  had  blessed  death ; 
no  one  had  died  with  unshaken  certainty 
that  only  after  the  funeral  pyre  or  the 
grave  would  real  life  begin,  —  life  as 
58 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

mighty  and  endless  as  only  a  being  all- 
powerful  and  eternal  can  give. 

And  he  whom  they  had  appointed  for 
crucifixion  declared  this  as  an  undoubted 
truth.  This  teaching  not  only  struck 
Antea,  but  seemed  to  her  the  only 
source  of  consolation.  She  knew  that 
she  must  die,  and  immense  regret  seized 
her.  For  what  did  death  mean  for  her? 
It  meant  to  lose  Cinna,  to  lose  her 
father,  to  lose  the  world,  to  lose  love, 
for  a  cold,  empty  gloom,  which  was  half 
nothing.  Hence  the  more  desirable  it 
was  for  her  in  life,  the  greater  must  be 
her  sorrow.  If  death  could  be  good  for 
anything,  or  if  it  were  possible  to  take 
with  her  even  the  remembrance  of  love, 
or  the  memory  of  happiness,  she  would 
be  able  to  gain  resignation  the  more 
quickly. 

S9 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Then,  while  she  expected  nothing 
from  death,  she  heard  all  at  once  that 
it  could  give  everything.  And  who  had 
made  that  announcement?  A  certain 
wonderful  man,  a  teacher,  a  prophet,  a 
philosopher,  who  enjoined  love  as  the 
highest  virtue,  who  blessed  people  when 
they  were  lashing  him;  and  this  man 
they  had  condemned  to  the  cross. 
Hence  Antea  thought:  **Why  did  he 
teach  thus  if  the  cross  was  his  only  re- 
ward? Others  desired  power;  he  did 
not  desire  it.  Others  desired  wealth; 
he  remained  poor.  Others  desired  pal- 
aces, feasts,  excesses,  purple  robes,  and 
chariots  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl  and 
ivory;  he  lived  like  a  shepherd.  Mean- 
while he  enjoined  love,  compassion, 
poverty ;  therefore  he  could  not  be  ma- 
licious and  deceive  people  purposely. 
60 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

If  he   spoke   the   truth,   let    death    be 

blessed  as  the  end  of  earthly  misery,  as 

the  change   from   a   lower   to  a   loftier 

happiness,    as   light   for   eyes   that   are 

quenching,   as    wings   with   which    one 

flies  away  into  endless  bliss !  " 

Antea    understood    then    what    the 

promise  of  resurrection  signified.     The 

mind  and  heart  of  the  poor  sick  woman 

cleaved  with  all  their  strength  to  that 

teaching.     She  recalled  also  the  words 

of  her  father,  who  had   repeated  more 

than  once  that  some  new  truth  might 

bring  the  tortured  soul  of  man  out  of 

darkness  and  imprisonment     And  here 

was  the  new  truth !     It  had  conquered 

death;  hence  it  had  brought  salvation. 

Antea   sank  with   her   whole   being   in 

those  thoughts ;   so  that  for  many  and 

many  a  day  Cinna   for  the   first  time 
6i 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

failed  to  find  terror  in  her  face  at  the 
approach  of  midday. 

The  procession  moved  at  last  from 
the  city  toward  Golgotha.  From  the 
height  where  Antea  was  sitting,  it  could 
be  seen  perfectly.  The  crowd,  though 
considerable,  seemed  lost  on  those  stony 
expanses.  Through  the  open  gate  of 
Jerusalem  flowed  more  and  more  people, 
and  on  the  way  they  were  joined  by 
those  who  had  been  waiting  outside  the 
walls.  They  went  at  first  in  a  long  line, 
which,  as  it  moved  forward,  spread  like 
a  swollen  river.  At  both  sides  were 
running  swarms  of  children. 

The  procession  was  made  varied  and 

many-colored  by  the  white  tunics  and 

the  scarlet  and  blue  kerchiefs  of  women. 

In  the  centre  were  glittering  the  arms 

and  spears  of  Roman  soldiers,  on  which 
62 


LET  US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

the  sun  cast  fleeting  rays,  as  it  were. 
The  uproar  of  mingled  voices  came 
from  afar  and  rose  with  increasing  dis- 
tinctness. 

At  last  the  multitude  came  quite  near; 
the  first  ranks  began  to  ascend  the  height 
The  throng  of  people  hurried  on  so  as 
to  occupy  the  nearest  places  and  see 
the  torment  more  clearly;  because  of 
this  the  division  of  soldiers,  conducting 
the  condemned,  fell  more  and  more 
toward  the  rear.  Children  arrived  first, 
mainly  boys,  half  naked,  with  cloths 
fastened  around  their  hips,  with  shaven 
heads,  except  two  tufts  of  hair  near  the 
temple,  embrowned,  with  eyes  almost 
blue,  and  harsh  voices.  In  the  wild 
uproar  they  fell  to  pulling  out  of  the 
crannies  bits  of  stone  broken  from  the 
cliffs;    these   they  wished  to    throw  at 

63 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

those  who  were  to  be  crucified.  Right 
after  them  the  height  swarmed  with  a 
nondescript  rabble.  Their  faces  were 
for  the  greater  part  excited  by  the 
movement  and  by  the  hope  of  a  spec- 
tacle. On  no  face  was  there  a  sign  of 
compassion.  The  noise  of  rasping 
voices,  the  endless  number  of  words 
thrown  out  by  each  mouth,  the  sudden- 
ness of  their  movements,  astonished 
Antea,  though  accustomed  in  Alexandria 
to  the  word-loving  liveliness  of  Greeks. 
Before  her,  people  spoke  as  if  they 
wished  to  hurl  themselves  at  one  an- 
other. They  screamed  as  if  escaping 
death;  they  resisted  as  if  some  one 
were  flaying  them. 

The   centurion   Rufilus,  approaching 
the  litter,  gave  explanations  in  a  calm, 

official   voice.      Meanwhile   new  waves 
64 


LET   US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

flowed  up  from  the  city.  The  throng 
increased  every  moment.  In  the  crowd 
were  seen  wealthy  men  of  Jerusalem, 
dressed  in  girded  tunics,  holding  them- 
selves aloof  from  the  wretched  rabble 
of  the  suburbs.  In  numbers  also  came 
villagers  which  the  festival  had  brought 
to  the  city,  with  their  families;  field- 
workers,  with  kindly  and  astonished 
faces,  came,  bearing  bags  at  their 
girdles;  shepherds  came,  dressed  in 
goat-skins.  Crowds  of  women  came 
with  the  men ;  but  as  wives  of  the  more 
wealthy  citizens  did  not  leave  their 
homes  willingly,  these  women  were 
chiefly  of  the  people.  They  were  vil- 
lagers, or  women  of  the  street;  these 
last  dressed  gaudily,  had  dyed  hair, 
brows,  and  nails;  they  wore  im- 
mense ear-rings  and  coin  necklaces, 
5  6s 


LET  US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

and  gave  out  from  a  distance  the  odor 
of  nard. 

The  Sanhedrim  arrived  at  last;  and 
in  the  midst  of  it,  Annas,  an  aged  man 
with  the  face  of  a  vulture  and  eyes  with 
red  Hds;  then  appeared  the  unwieldy 
Caiaphas,  wearing  a  two-horned  hat, 
with  a  gilded  tablet  on  his  breast. 
With  these  walked  various  Pharisees; 
as,  for  instance,  those  who  **  drag  their 
legs "  and  strike  every  obstacle  pur- 
posely with  their  feet;  Pharisees  with 
*'  bloody  foreheads,"  who  beat  those 
foreheads  against  the  wall,  also  by 
design;  and  Pharisees  "bent  over,"  as 
if  to  receive  the  burden  of  the  sins  of 
the  whole  city  on  their  shoulders. 
Gloomy  importance  and  cold  vindic- 
tiveness   distinguished    them   from   the 

noisy  rabble. 

66 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

Cinna  looked  at  this  throng  of  people 
with  the  cool,  contemptuous  visage  of 
a  man  of  the  ruling  race,  Antea  with 
astonishment  and  fear.  Many  Jews  in- 
habited Alexandria,  but  there  they  were 
half  Hellenized ;  here  for  the  first  time 
she  saw  Jews  as  the  procurator  had  de- 
scribed them,  and  as  they  were  in  their 
own  native  nest.  Her  youthful  face,  on 
which  death  had  imprinted  its  stamp, 
her  form,  resembling  a  shadow,  attracted 
general  attention.  They  stared  at  her 
with  insolence  in  so  far  as  the  soldiers 
surrounding  her  litter  permitted  them; 
and  so  great  among  them  was  contempt 
for  foreigners  that  no  compassion  was 
evident  in  the  eyes  of  any;  rather  did 
gladness  shine  in  them  because  the 
victim  would  not  escape  death.  Then 
the  daughter  of  Timon  understood  for 

67 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

the  first  time,  and  precisely,  why  those 
people  demanded  a  cross  for  the  prophet 
who  had  proclaimed  love. 

And  all  at  once  that  Nazarene  ap- 
peared to  Antea  as  some  one  so  near 
that  he  was  almost  dear  to  her.  He 
had  to  die,  and  so  had  she.  Nothing 
could  save  him  now,  after  the  issuing  of 
the  sentence,  and  sentence  had  fallen 
also  on  her ;  hence  it  seemed  to  Antea 
that  the  brotherhood  of  misfortune  and 
death  had  united  them.  But  he  ap- 
proached the  cross  with  faith  in  a  mor- 
row after  death.  She  had  not  that  faith 
yet,  and  had  come  to  obtain  it  from  the 
sight  of  him. 

Meanwhile  from  afar  was  heard  an 
uproar,  a  whistling,  a  howling,  then  all 
was  silent.  Next  came  clatter  of  weap- 
ons and  the  heavy  tread  of  legionaries. 
68 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

The  crowds  swayed,  opened,  and  the 
division  conducting  the  condemned  be- 
gan to  push  past  the  litter.  In  front, 
at  both  sides,  and  behind,  advanced  sol- 
diers with  slow  and  measured  tread. 
Next  were  three  arms  of  crosses,  which 
seemed  to  move  of  themselves;  they 
were  borne  by  persons  bent  under  the 
weight  of  them.  It  was  easy  to  divine 
that  the  Nazarene  was  not  among  those 
three,  for  two  had  the  insolent  faces  of 
thieves.  The  third  was  a  simple  coun- 
tryman, no  longer  young;  clearly  the 
soldiers  had  impressed  him  to  do  work 
for  another. 

The  Nazarene  walked  behind  the 
crosses ;  two  soldiers  marched  near  him. 
He  wore  a  purple  mantle  thrown  over 
his  garments,  and  a  crown  of  thorns, 
from  under  the  points  of  which  drops  of 

69 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

blood  issued;  of  these  some  flowed 
slowly  along  his  face,  others  had  grown 
stiff  under  the  crown,  in  the  form  of 
berries  of  the  wild  rose,  or  coral  beads. 
He  was  pale,  and  moved  forward  with 
slow,  unsteady,  and  weakened  step.  He 
advanced  amid  insults  from  the  multi- 
tude, sunk,  as  it  were,  in  the  meditation 
of  another  world ;  he  was  as  if  seized 
away  from  the  earth  altogether,  as  if 
not  caring  for  the  cries  of  hatred,  or  as  if 
forgiving  beyond  the  measure  of  human 
forgiveness  and  compassionate  beyond 
the  measure  of  human  compassion,  for, 
embraced  now  by  infinity,  raised  above 
human  estimate,  he  was  exceedingly 
mild,  and  was  sorrowful  only  through 
his  measureless  sorrow  for  all  men. 
*'  Thou  art  Truth,"  whispered  Antea, 

with  trembling  lips. 
70 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

The  retinue  was  passing  just  near  the 
litter.  It  halted  for  a  moment  while 
soldiers  in  front  were  clearing  the  road 
of  the  throng ;  Antea  saw  then  the  Naz- 
arene  a  few  steps  away.  She  saw  the 
breeze  move  his  hair ;  she  saw  the  ruddy 
reflection  from  his  mantle  on  his  pallid 
and  almost  transparent  face.  The  mob, 
rushing  toward  him,  surrounded  with  a 
dense  half-circle  the  soldiers,  who  had 
to  resist  with  spears,  to  save  him  from 
their  rage.  Everywhere  were  visible 
outstretched  arms  with  clinched  fists, 
eyes  bursting  through  their  lids,  gleam- 
ing teeth,  beards  thrown  apart  from  mad 
movements,  and  foaming  lips  through 
which  came  hoarse  shouts.  But  he  looked 
around,  as  if  wishing  to  ask,  "  What  have 
I  done  to  you?*' then  he  raised  his  eyes 
to  heaven  and  prayed  —  and  forgave. 
71 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

"Antea!  Antea!*'  cried  Cinna  at 
that  moment. 

But  Antea  seemed  not  to  hear  his 
cries.  Great  tears  were  falling  from 
her  eyes;  she  forgot  her  sickness,  for- 
got that  for  many  days  she  had  not 
risen  from  the  litter ;  and  sitting  up  on 
a  sudden,  trembling,  half  conscious, 
from  pity,  compassion,  and  indignation 
at  the  mad  shrieks  of  the  multitude,  she 
took  hyacinths  with  apple  blossoms 
and  cast  them  before  the  feet  of  the 
Nazarene. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence. 
Amazement  seized  the  crowd  at  sight 
of  this  noble  Roman  lady  giving  honor 
to  the  condemned.  He  turned  his  eyes 
to  her  poor  sick  face,  and  his  lips  be- 
gan to  move,  as  if  blessing  her.     Antea 

fell  again  on  the  pillow  of  the  litter ;  she 
72 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

felt  that  a  sea  of  light,  of  goodness,  of 
grace,  of  consolation,  of  hope,  of  happi- 
ness, was  falling  on  her. 

"  Thou  art  Truth,"  whispered  she,  a 
second  time. 

Then  a  new  wave  of  tears  came  to 
her  eyes. 

But  they  pushed  him  forward  to  a 
place  a  few  tens  of  steps  distant  from 
the  litter;  on  that  place  stood  already 
the  uprights  of  crosses,  fixed  in  a  cleft 
of  the  rocky  platform.  The  crowd  con- 
cealed him  again ;  but,  since  that  place 
was  elevated  considerably,  Antea  soon 
saw  his  pale  face  and  the  crown  of 
thorns.  The  legionaries  turned  once 
more  toward  the  rabble,  which  they 
clubbed  away,  lest  it  might  interrupt 
the  execution.  They  began  then  to 
fasten  the  two  thieves  to  the  side 
73 


LET  US   FOLLOW  HIM. 

crosses.  The  third  cross  stood  in  the 
middle;  to  the  top  of  it  was  fastened, 
with  a  nail,  a  white  card  which  the 
growing  wind  pulled  and  raised.  When 
soldiers,  approaching  the  Nazarene  at 
last,  began  to  undress  him,  shouts  rose 
in  the  crowds :  **  King !  king !  do  not 
yield!  King,  where  are  thy  legions? 
Defend  thyself!"  At  moments  laugh- 
ter burst  forth,  —  laughter  that  bore 
away  the  multitude  till  on  a  sudden  the 
whole  stony  height  resounded  with  one 
roar.  Then  they  stretched  him  face 
upward  on  the  ground,  to  nail  his  hands 
to  the  arms  of  the  cross,  and  raise  him 
afterward  with  it  to  the  main  pillar. 

Thereupon    some    man,   in    a   white 

tunic,  standing  not  far  from  the  litter, 

cast    himself    on    the    earth   suddenly, 

gathered  dust  and  bits  of  stone  on  his 

74 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

head,  and  cried  in  a  shrill  despairing 
voice,  "  I  was  a  leper,  and  he  cured 
me ;  why  do  ye  crucify  him  ?  " 

Antea's  face  became  white  as  a 
kerchief. 

"  He  cured  that  man ;  dost  hear, 
Caius?  '*  said  she. 

"  Dost  wish  to  return?  "  asked  Cinna. 

"  No  !     I  will  remain  here !  " 

But  a  wild  and  boundless  despair 
seized  Cinna  because  he  had  not 
called  the  Nazarene  to  his  house  to 
cure  Antea. 

At  that  moment  the  soldiers,  plac- 
ing nails  at  his  hands,  began  to  strike. 
The  dull  clink  of  iron  against  iron 
was  heard;  this  soon  changed  into  a 
sound  which  went  farther,  for  the 
points  of  the  nails,  having  passed 
through  flesh,  entered  the  wood.  The 
75 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

crowds  were  silent  again,  perhaps 
to  enjoy  cries  which  torture  might 
bring  from  the  mouth  of  the  Naza- 
rene.  But  he  remained  silent,  and  on 
the  height  was  heard  only  the  omi- 
nous and  dreadful  sound  of  the 
hammers. 

At  last  they  had  finished  the  work, 
and  the  cross-piece  was  drawn  up, 
with  the  body.  The  centurion  in 
charge  pronounced,  or  rather  sang  out 
monotonously,  words  of  command,  in 
virtue  of  which  a  soldier  began  to  nail 
the  feet. 

At  this  moment  those  clouds,  which 
since  morning  had  been  extending  on 
the  horizon,  hid  the  sun.  The  distant 
hills  and  cliffs,  which  had  been  gleam- 
ing in  brightness,  gleamed  no  longer. 

The    light    turned    to    darkness.      An 
76 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

ominous  bronze-colored  gloom  seized 
the  region  about,  and,  as  the  sun  sank 
more  deeply  behind  piles  of  clouds, 
the  gloom  became  denser.  Men  might 
have  thought  that  some  being  from 
above  was  sifting  down  to  the  earth 
lurid  darkness.  The  air  now  grew 
sultry. 

All  at  once  even  those  remnants  of 
lurid  gleams  became  black.  Clouds, 
dark  as  night,  rolled  and  pushed  for- 
ward, like  a  gigantic  wave,  toward  the 
height  and  the  city.  A  tempest  was 
coming !  The  world  was  filled  with 
fear. 

"  Let  us  return !  **  said  Cinna  again. 

"  Once  more,  once  more,  I  wish  to 
see  him,*'  answered  Antea. 

Darkness  had  concealed  the  hang- 
ing bodies.  Cinna  gave  command  to 
77 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

carry  the  litter  nearer  the  place  of 
torment.  They  carried  it  so  near  that 
barely  a  few  steps  were  between  th  in 
and  the  cross.  On  the  dark  tree  they 
saw  the  body  of  the  Crucified,  who  in 
that  general  eclipse  seemed  made  of 
silver  rays  of  the  moon.  His  breast 
rose  with  quick  breathing.  His  face 
and  eyes  were  turned  upward  yet. 

Then  from  the  rolls  of  clouds  was 
heard  a  deep  rumbling.  Thunder  was 
roused ;  it  rose  and  rolled  with  tremen- 
dous report  from  the  east  to  the  west, 
and  then  falling,  as  if  into  a  bottomless 
abyss,  was  heard  farther  and  farther 
down,  now  dying  away,  and  now  in- 
creasing ;  at  last  it  roared  till  the  earth 
shook  in  its  foundations. 

A   gigantic  blue  lightning-flash   rent 

the  clouds,  lighted  the  sky,  the  earth, 
78 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

the  crosses,  the  arms  of  the  soldiers, 
and  the  mob  huddled  together,  like  a 
:  »ck  of  sheep,  filled  with  distress  and 
terror. 

After  the  lightning  came  deeper  dark- 
ness. Close  to  the  litter  was  heard  the 
sobbing  of  women,  who  also  drew  near 
the  cross.  There  was  something  omi- 
nous in  this  sobbing  amid  silence.  Those 
who  were  lost  in  the  multitude  began 
now  to  cry  out.  Here  and  there  were 
heard  terrified  voices, — 

"  O  Yah  !  oj  lanu  !  [woe  to  us  !]  O 
Yah !  Have  they  not  crucified  the  Just 
One?" 

"Who  gave  true  testimony!  O 
Yah ! " 

"  Who  raised  the  dead !  " 

And  another  voice  called,  — 

"  Woe  to  thee,  Jerusalem  ! " 
79 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

Still  another,  — 

"The  earth  trembles!" 

A  new  lightning-flash  disclosed  the 
depths  of  the  sky,  and  in  them  gigantic 
figures  of  fire,  as  it  were.  The  voices 
were  silent,  or  rather  were  lost  in  the 
whistling  of  the  whirlwind,  which  sprang 
up  all  at  once  with  tremendous  force; 
it  swept  off  a  multitude  of  mantles  and 
kerchiefs,  and  hurled  them  away  over 
the  height. 

Voices  cried  out  anew, — 

"  The  earth  trembles !  " 

Some  began  to  flee.  Terror  nailed 
others  to  the  spot ;  and  they  stood  fixed 
in  amazement,  without  thought,  with 
this  dull  impression  only, — that  some- 
thing awful  was  happening. 

But,  on  a  sudden,  the  gloom  began  to 
be  less  dense.  Wind  rolled  the  clouds 
80 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

over,  twisted  and  tore  them  like  rotten 
rags ;  brightness  increased  gradually. 
At  last  the  dark  ceiling  was  rent,  and 
through  the  opening  rushed  in  all  at 
once  a  torrent  of  sunlight;  presently 
the  heights  became  visible,  and  with 
them  the  crosses  and  the  terrified  faces 
of  the  people. 

The  head  of  the  Nazarene  had  fallen 
low  on  his  breast;  it  was  as  pale  as 
wax;  his  eyes  were  closed,  his  lips 
blue. 

"  He  is  dead,"  whispered  Antea. 

'*  He  is  dead,"  repeated  Cinna. 

At   this   moment  a  centurion   thrust 

his  spear  into  the  side  of  the  dead.     A 

wonderful  thing :  the  return  of  light  and 

the  sight  of  that  death  seemed  to  appease 

that  crowd.      They  pushed  nearer  and 

nearer,  especially  since  the  soldiers  did 
6  8i 


LET  US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

not  bar  approach.  Among  the  throng 
were  heard  voices,  — 

"  Come  down  from  the  cross !  Come 
down  from  the  cross !  " 

Antea  cast  her  eyes  once  more  on 
that  low-hanging  head,  then  she  said, 
as  if  to  herself, — 

*^Will  he  rise  from  the  dead?" 

In  view  of  death,  which  had  put  blue 
spots  on  his  eyes  and  mouth,  in  view  of 
those  arms  stretched  beyond  measure, 
and  in  view  of  that  motionless  body 
which  had  settled  down  with  the  weight 
of  dead  things,  her  voice  trembled  with 
despairing  doubt. 

Not  less  was  the  disappointment  rend- 
ing Cinna's  soul.  He  also  believed  not 
that  the  Nazarene  would  rise  from  the 
dead ;  but  he  believed  that  had  he  lived, 

he  alone,  with  his  power,  good  or  evil, 
82 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

might  have  given  health  to  Antea. 
Meanwhile  more  numerous  voices  were 
calling,  — 

"  Come  down  from  the  cross  !  Come 
down  from  the  cross  !  " 

**  Come  down  !  "  repeated  Cinna,  with 
despair.  "  Cure  her  for  me ;  take  my 
life !  " 

The  air  became  purer  and  purer. 
The  mountains  were  still  in  mist,  but 
above  the  height  and  the  city  the  sky 
had  cleared  perfectly.  **  Turris  An- 
tonia"  glittered  in  sunlight  as  bright 
itself  as  the  sun.  The  air  had  become 
fresh,  and  was  full  of  swallows.  Cinna 
gave  command  to  return. 

It  was  an  afternoon  hour.  Near  the 
house  Antea  said, — 

**  Hecate  has  not  come  to-day." 

Cinna  also  was  thinking  of  that. 
83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  vision  did  not  appear  the  next 
day.  The  sick  woman  was  unusually 
animated,  for  Timon  had  come  from 
Caesarea.  Alarmed  for  the  life  of  his 
daughter  and  frightened  by  Cinna's  let- 
ters, he  had  left  Alexandria  a  few  days 
earlier  to  look  once  again  on  his  only 
child  before  her  parting.  At  Cinna's 
heart  hope  began  to  knock  again,  as  if 
to  give  notice  to  receive  it.  But  he  had 
not  courage  to  open  the  door  to  that 
guest;  he  did  not  dare  to  harbor  hope. 

In  the  visions  which  had  been  killing 

Antea,  there  had   been  intervals,  it   is 

true,  not   of  two  days,  but  of  one   in 
84 


LET   US    FOLLOW  HIM. 

Alexandria,  and  in  the  desert.  The 
present  reHef  Cinna  attributed  to  Timon's 
arrival,  and  her  impressions  at  the  cross, 
which  so  filled  the  sick  woman's  soul 
that  she  could  talk  of  nothing  else,  even 
with  her  father. 

Timon  Hstened  with  attention ;  he  did 
not  contradict ;  he  meditated  and  merely 
inquired  carefully  about  the  doctrine  of 
the  Nazarene,  of  which  Antea  knew,  for 
that  matter,  only  what  the  procurator 
had  told  her. 

In  general  she  felt  healthier  and  some- 
what stronger;  and  when  midday  had 
passed  and  gone,  real  solace  shone  in 
her  eyes.  She  repeated  that  that  was  a 
favorable  day,  and  begged  her  husband 
to  make  note  of  it. 

The  day  was  really  sad  and  gloomy. 
Rain  had  begun  in  the  early  morning, 
«5 


LET   US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

at  first  very  heavy,  then  fine  and  cutting, 
from  low  clouds  which  extended  monot- 
onously. Only  in  the  evening  did  the 
sky  break  through,  and  the  great  fiery 
globe  of  the  sun  look  out  of  the  mists, 
paint  in  purple  and  gold  the  gray  rocks, 
the  white  marble  porticoes  of  the  villas, 
and  descend  with  endless  gleams  toward 
the  Mediterranean. 

The  next  morning  was  wonderfully 
beautiful.  The  weather  promised  to  be 
warm,  but  the  morning  was  fresh,  the 
sky  without  a  spot,  and  the  earth  so 
sunk  in  a  blue  bath  that  all  objects 
seemed  blue.  Antea  had  given  direc- 
tions to  bear  her  out  and  place  her 
under  the  favorite  pistachio-tree,  so  that 
from  the  elevation  on  which  the  tree 
stood  she  might  delight  herself  with  the 

view  of  the  blue  and  gladsome  distance. 
86 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HLM. 

Cinna  and  Timon  did  not  move  a  step 
from  the  litter,  and  watched  the  face  of 
the  sick  woman  carefully.  There  was  in 
it  a  certain  alarm  of  expectation,  but  it 
was  not  that  mortal  fear  which  used  to 
seize  her  at  the  approach  of  midday. 
Her  eyes  cast  a  more  lively  light,  and 
her  cheeks  bloomed  with  a  slight  flush. 
Cinna  thought  indeed  at  moments  that 
Antea  might  recover;  and  at  this 
thought  he  wanted  to  throw  himself  on 
the  ground,  to  sob  from  delight,  and 
bless  the  gods.  Then  again  he  feared 
that  that  was  perhaps  the  last  gleam  of 
the  dying  lamp.  Wishing  to  gain  hope 
from  some  source,  he  glanced  every  little 
while  at  Timon;  but  similar  thoughts 
must  have  been  passing  through  his 
head,  for  he  avoided  Cinna's  glances. 
None  of  the  three  mentioned  by  a  word 

87 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

that  midday  was  near.  But  Cinna,  cast- 
ing his  eyes  every  moment  at  the  shad- 
ows, saw  with  beating  heart  that  they 
were  growing  shorter  and  shorter. 

And  he  sat  as  if  sunk  in  thought. 
Perhaps  the  least  alarmed  was  Antea 
herself.  Lying  in  the  open  litter,  her 
head  rested  on  a  purple  pillow;  she 
breathed  with  delight  that  pure  air 
which  the  breeze  brought  from  the  west, 
from  the  distant  sea.  But  before  midday 
the  breeze  had  ceased  to  blow.  The 
heat  increased ;  warmed  by  the  sun,  the 
pepperwort  of  the  cliffs  and  the  thickets 
of  nard  began  to  give  out  a  strong  and 
intoxicating  odor.  Bright  butterflies 
balanced  themselves  over  bunches  of 
anemones.  From  the  crevices  of  the 
rocks  little  lizards,  already  accustomed 

to  that  litter  and  those  people,  sprang 
88 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

out,  one  after  the  other,  confident  as 
usual,  and  also  cautious  in  every  move- 
ment. The  whole  world  was  enjoying 
that  serene  peace,  that  warmth,  that 
calm  sweetness  and  azure  drowsiness. 

Timon  and  Cinna  seemed  also  to  dis- 
solve in  that  sunny  rest.  The  sick 
woman  closed  her  eyes  as  if  a  light 
sleep  had  seized  her;  and  nothing  in- 
terrupted that  silence  except  sighs, 
which  from  time  to  time  raised  her 
breast. 

Meanwhile  Cinna  noticed  that  his 
shadow  had  lost  its  lengthened  form 
and  was  lying  there  under  his  feet. 

It  was  midday. 

All  at  once  Antea  opened  her  eyes 

and   called   out    in   a  kind   of  atrange 

voice,  — 

**  Caius,  give  me  thy  hand." 
89 


LET    US   FOLLOW   HIM. 

He  sprang  up,  and  all  the  blood  was 
stiffened  to  ice  in  his  heart.  The  hour 
of  terrible  visions  had  come. 

Her  eyes  opened  wider  and  wider. 

**  Dost  thou  see,"  said  she,  '*  how  light 
collects  there  and  binds  the  air;  how 
it  trembles,  glitters,  and  approaches 
me?" 

"  Antea,  look  not  in  that  direction  !  " 
cried  Cinna. 

But,  oh,  wonder!  there  was  no  fear 
on  her  face.  Her  lips  were  parted  ;  her 
eyes  were  gazing,  and  opening  wider 
and  wider;  -a  certain  immeasurable  de- 
light began  to  brighten  her  face. 

"  The  pillar  of  light  approaches  me," 

said  she.     "  See  !  that  is  he ;  that  is  the 

Nazarene  !  —  he   is   smiling.     O    Mild  ! 

O  Merciful !     The  transfixed  hands  he 

stretches    out    like   a   mother    to    me. 
90 


LET   US    FOLLOW   HIM. 

Caius,  he  brings  me  health,  salvation, 

and  calls  me  to  himself." 

Cinna  grew  very  pale,  and  said, — 
*'  Whithersoever   he   calls   us,  let   us 

follow  him." 

A  moment  later,  on  the  other  side, 
on  the  stony  path  leading  to  the  city, 
appeared  Pontius  Pilate.  Before  he  had 
come  near,  it  was  evident  from  his  face 
that  he  was  bringing  news,  which,  as  a 
man  of  judgment,  he  considered  a  fresh, 
absurd  invention  of  the  ignorant  and 
credulous  rabble.  In  fact,  while  still  at 
some  distance,  he  began  to  call,  wiping 
perspiration  from  his  brow, — 

"  Imagine  to  thyself,  they  declare 
that  he  has  risen  from  the  dead !  " 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOENIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 

STAMPED  BELOW 

Books  not  returned  on  time  are  subject  to  a  fine  of 
50c  Der  volume  after  the  third  day  overdue,  increasing 
to  $1.00  per  volume  after  the  sixth  day.  Books  not  in 
demand  may  be  renewed  if  application  is  made  before 
expiration  of  loan  period. 


.f«  ^^  ''''' 


•.,-a!''56BS 


^3.^1?  *  «  ffF?  ^'^'' 


REC'D  LD 

l^AR  6    1962 


REC'D  LD 

MAY  3. 3 '64 -9 '^W 


iKt 


xiswii 


MARisa/^tiH 


50w-7,'16 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CD4S^^fl^3h 


^n^AQ 


iJ.^^^-.r..:ifTr^    si^ 


